Troy’s eyelid twitched at the sight of the raven.

Back in the mulberry orchard he hadn’t seen clearly; only after chasing it home did he realize the hateful little thief that snatched his hood and yanked his hair was Luo Wei’s raven.

Normally the bird did nothing but eat and sleep, sprawled on its back in the wicker basket, claws in the air. In a good mood it jabbered noisily; in a bad mood—well, it never really had a bad mood. It squawked at everything: after meat, over counting coins. On blazing sunny days it bounded around the courtyard draped in a colorful shawl, occasionally tripping a maid in the front yard.

He often heard the maids complain, but he was usually out working all day. If the racket grated on his ears, he just stepped outside for quiet. Man and raven had no deep enmity.

Until just now.

While he was collecting silkworm eggs in the orchard, the thing had suddenly dive‑bombed from the sky, hooked talons seizing his cloak hood, the curved claws punching through fabric and scraping his scalp raw.

Finding him too heavy to lift, it instantly changed tactics—one talon flip ripped off his cloak, and its beak started plucking at his hair.

By the time he reacted, a patch about half a fingernail was bald.

The culprit fled triumphantly with his hair, while his exposed red hair in the open air sent the nearby laborers bolting in terror.

What a vicious little scheme!

It could carry his hair back to claim credit for finding him—while exposing his identity so others would fear and shun him.

This thief had to be an enemy spy sent to track him!

At that thought he drew his sword and gave chase.

He hadn’t expected such speed. Even at full effort he couldn’t catch it.

At last he reached the destination—only to see it was his current home. And the little thief had already vaulted proudly onto Luo Wei, neck craned in triumph.

“Caw!”

Sensing a trace of killing intent, the raven stretched its neck to nuzzle Luo Wei’s chin, beady eyes spinning innocently.

Luo Wei patted its head, glanced at Troy, and understood.

“You heard me say I needed to find Troy, so you brought him back—did you?” she asked, looking down.

“Caw!” the raven declared, full-throated.

“Good work. I’ll reward you later.”

She lifted it down, then walked toward Troy. “Forget the mulberry orchard for now. I have something more important.”

“Have you heard the northern Serbanley Duchy declared war on the Borren Duchy and marched on Gore City?”

Troy nodded. “I’ve heard. Yesterday Gore City’s outer gate was breached.”

“And the lord’s castle?”

“The castle sits on high ground inside the inner city, surrounded by steep slopes. The Serbanley army can’t take it quickly.”

If it couldn’t fall quickly, she had time.

Luo Wei considered. In medieval Europe sieges were comparatively rare—raids and pillage more common. Assaulting a castle consumed time and supplies most armies couldn’t sustain.

If Serbanley only meant to punish Gore City for harboring runaway peasants—rather than annex Borren—they wouldn’t go for Earl Wesley’s life. At most they’d capture him, humiliate him, then demand land or cities—make his kin ransom him.

Without a blood feud, nobles rarely fought to the death.

Vina had let panic cloud her judgment, almost skewing Luo Wei’s own. Would Earl Wesley cough blood if he learned what his daughter had promised?

All told, Luo Wei decided she should stay proactive in securing those Magic Stone Veins.

“Troy, if I send you with the griffin to aid Gore City, will anyone recognize who you used to be?”

She studied him. The griffin had found him during his campaigning in the Kingdom of Atte; she didn’t know whether other nations knew he had such a mount.

At mention of his past, Troy’s eyes darkened. “No.”

“The griffin dislikes human towns. I’ve rarely shown it in public. Only the one who framed me knows.”

Troy only looked dull beside Luo Wei; he wasn’t truly irredeemably foolish. When the griffin chose him—back when he was just a swordsman—he understood what would happen if word got out. Plenty of higher‑ranked, stronger people would try to seize it. Even if he claimed it had come to him freely, those in power wouldn’t accept it; they might kill him to force the griffin to change masters.

So he always kept it hidden.

The friend who framed him knew, but wouldn’t trumpet it. Ridiculous reason: that person knew Troy had no contract with the griffin and wanted to steal it quietly.

Later, when Troy was framed and imprisoned, then injured a guard and escaped, that person became even less likely to speak—afraid the king would behead him for driving away a knight with a griffin mount.

Thanks to that secrecy, the Atte royal court still didn’t know how he passed all those walls. They’d speculated tunnels or swimming—never that he’d flown.

So Troy’s answer was ironclad: “No one but that person would recognize me.”

No one could identify him—perfect.

“Since that’s the case,” Luo Wei said after a moment’s weighing, “take the griffin to Gore City and help its lord resist the invaders.”

Troy looked puzzled. “Help Gore City’s lord—Earl Wesley?”

“You heard me.” Luo Wei set her face in righteous lines. “Morally, Earl Wesley took in large numbers of refugees neighboring lords couldn’t care for. His mercy deserves praise.”

“Personally, his only daughter is my classmate—and a dear friend. A friend pleads; I can’t stand by and watch.”

The lofty reasoning landed; Troy’s face flushed with feeling. “You are right, Your Highness. I will depart at once.”

“Wait,” Luo Wei stopped him. “Why the rush? I haven’t given you something.”

She produced the emerald necklace Vina had left as collateral and solemnly handed it over. “This is the token. When you meet Earl Wesley, show him the necklace. Tell him you’re the reinforcements invited by his own daughter, Vina.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Troy accepted it gravely.

“Speed matters,” Luo Wei instructed. “Get there early. If he isn’t in immediate danger, just guard him. Avoid clashing with the Serbanley army unless absolutely necessary.”

“If his life is critical, or the castle’s about to fall—you act fast.”

“Understood.” Troy was about to leave, then paused. “But Your Highness—will this violate the Magic Accord?”

The Magic Association had rules: mages could not involve themselves in commoners’ battles, nor use magic on ordinary people. Unless the enemy also fielded magic warriors, he could only engage opposing mages.

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